Master the Art of Insinuation

Making your targets feel dissatisfied and in need of your attention is essential, but if you are too obvious, they will see through you and

grow defensive. There is no known defense, however, against

insinuation—the art of planting ideas in people’s minds by dropping elusive hints that take root days later, even appearing to them as

their own idea. Insinuation is the supreme means of influencing people. Create a sublanguage—bold statements followed by retraction and apology, ambiguous comments, banal talk combined with alluring glances—that enters the target’s unconscious to

convey your real meaning. Make everything suggestive.

As we were about to enter the chamber, she stopped me. “Remember,” she said gravely, “you are supposed never to have seen, never even

suspected, the sanctuary you’re about to enter ” •

. . . All this was like an initiation rite. She led me by the hand across a small, dark corridor. My heart was pounding as though I were a young

proselyte being put to the test before the celebration of the great mysteries. • “But your

Countess ” she said, stopping. I was about to

reply when the doors opened; my answer was interrupted by admiration. I was astonished, delighted, I no longer know what became of me, and I began in good faith to believe in magic. . . . In truth, I found myself in a vast cage of mirrors on which images were so artistically painted that they

produced the illusion of all the objects they represented.

—VIVANT DENON, “NO TOMORROW,” IN MICHEL FEHER, ED., THE LIBERTINE

READER

Insinuating Desire

One evening in the 1770s, a young man went to the Paris Opera to meet his lover, the Countess de  . The couple had been fighting, and he was anxious to see her again. The countess had not arrived yet at her box, but from an adjacent one a friend of hers, Madame de T  , called out to the young man to join her, remarking that it was an excellent stroke of luck that they had met that evening—he must keep her company on a trip she had to take. The young man wanted urgently to see the countess, but Madame was charming and insistent and he agreed to go with her. Before he could ask why or where, she quickly escorted him to her carriage outside, which then sped off.

Now the young man enjoined his hostess to tell him where she was taking him. At first she just laughed, but finally she told him: to her husband’s château. The couple had been estranged, but had decided to reconcile; her husband was a bore, however, and she felt a charming young man like himself would liven things up. The young man was intrigued:

Madame was an older woman, with a reputation for being rather formal, though he also knew she had a lover, a marquis. Why had she chosen him for this excursion? Her story was not quite credible. Then, as they traveled, she suggested he look out the window at the passing landscape, as she was doing. He had to lean over toward her to do so, and just as he did, the

carriage jolted. She grabbed his hand and fell into his arms. She stayed there for a moment, then pulled away from him rather abruptly. After an awkward silence, she said, “Do you intend to convince me of my

imprudence in your regard?” He protested that the incident had been an accident and reassured her he would behave himself. In truth, however, having her in his arms had made him think otherwise.

They arrived at the chateau. The husband came to meet them, and the young man expressed his admiration of the building: “What you see is

nothing,” Madame interrupted, “I must take you to Monsieur’s apartment.” Before he could ask what she meant, the subject was quickly changed. The husband was indeed a bore, but he excused himself after supper. Now

Madame and the young man were alone. She invited him to walk with her in the gardens; it was a splendid evening, and as they walked, she slipped her arm in his. She was not worried that he would take advantage of her, she said, because she knew how attached he was to her good friend the countess. They talked of other things, and then she returned to the topic of

his lover: “Is she making you quite happy? Oh, I fear the contrary, and this distresses me. Are you not often the victim of her strange whims?” To

the young man’s surprise, Madame began to talk of the countess in a way that made it seem that she had been unfaithful to him (which was something he had suspected). Madame sighed—she regretted saying such things about her friend, and asked him to forgive her; then, as if a new thought had occurred to her, she mentioned a nearby pavilion, a delightful place, full of pleasant memories. But the shame of it was, it was locked and she had no key. And yet they found their way to the pavilion, and lo and behold, the door had been left open. It was dark inside, but the young man could sense that it was a place for trysts. They entered and sank onto a sofa, and before he knew what had come over him, he took her in his arms. Madame seemed to push him away, but then gave in. Finally she came to her senses: they must return to the house. Had he gone too far? He must try to control himself.

A few short years ago, in our native city, where fraud and cunning prosper more than love or

loyalty, there was a noblewoman of striking beauty and impeccable breeding, who was endowed by

Nature with as lofty a temperament and shrewd an intellect as could be found in any other woman of her time. • This lady, being of gentle birth and

finding herself married off to a master woollen- draper because he happened to be very rich, was

unable to stifle her heartfelt contempt, for she was firmly of the opinion that no man of low condition,

however wealthy, was deserving of a noble wife. And on discovering that all he was capable of, despite his massive wealth, was distinguishing wool from cotton, supervising the setting up of a

loom, or debating the virtues of a particular yarn with a spinner-woman, she resolved that as far as it lay within her power she would have nothing

whatsoever to do with his beastly caresses.

Moreover she was determined to seek her pleasure elsewhere, in the company of one who seemed

more worthy of her affection, and so it was that she fell deeply in love with an extremely eligible man in his middle thirties. And whenever a day

passed without her having set eyes upon him, she was restless for the whole of the following night. • However, the gentleman suspected nothing of all this, and took no notice of her; and for her part, being very cautious, she would not venture to

declare her love by dispatching a maidservant or writing him a letter, for fear of the dangers that

this might entail. But having perceived that he was on very friendly terms with a certain priest, a rotund, uncouth, individual who was nevertheless regarded as an outstandingly able friar on account of his very saintly way of life, she calculated that

this fellow would serve as an ideal go- between for her and the man she loved. And so, after reflecting on the strategy she would adopt, she paid a visit, at an appropriate hour of the day, to the church

where he was to be found, and having sought him out, she asked him whether he would agree to

confess her. •Since he could tell at a glance that she was a lady of quality, the friar gladly heard

her confession, and when she had got to the end of it, she continued as follows: • “Father, as I shall explain to you presently, there is a certain matter

about which I am compelled to seek your advice and assistance. Having already told you my name, I feel sure you will know my family and my husband. He loves me more dearly than life itself, and since he is enormously rich, he never has the slightest difficulty or hesitation in supplying me with every single object for which I display a yearning. Consequently, my love for him is quite unbounded, and if my mere thoughts, to say nothing of my actual behavior, were to run

contrary to his wishes and his honor, I would be more deserving of hellfire than the wickedest woman who ever lived. • ”Now, there is a certain person, of respectable outward appearance, who unless I am mistaken is a close acquaintance of yours. I really couldn’t say what his name is, but

he is tall and handsome, his clothes are brown and elegantly cut, and, possibly because he is unaware of my resolute nature, he appears to have laid

siege to me. He turns up infallibly whenever I

either look out of my window or stand at the front door or leave the house, and I am surprised, in fact, that he is not here now. Needless to say, I am very upset about all this, because his sort of conduct frequently gives an honest woman a bad name, even though she is quite innocent. • “. . .

For the love of God, therefore, I implore you to

speak to him severely and persuade him to refrain from his importunities. There are plenty of other women who doubtless find this sort of thing

amusing, and who will enjoy being ogled and spied upon by him, but I personally have no inclination

for it whatsoever, and I find his behavior

exceedingly disagreeable. ” • And having reached the end of her speech, the lady bowed her head as though she were going to burst into tears. • The

reverend friar realized immediately who it was to whom she was referring, and having warmly commended her purity of mind . . . he promised to take all necessary steps to ensure that the fellow ceased to annoy her •Shortly afterward, the

gentleman in question paid one of his regular visits to the reverend friar, and after they had conversed together for a while on general topics, the friar

drew him to one side and reproached him in a very kindly sort of way for the amorous glances which, as the lady had given him to understand, he believed him to be casting in her direction. • Not

unnaturally, the gentleman was amazed, for he had never so much as looked at the lady and it was

very seldom that he passed by her house. The

gentleman, being rather more perceptive than the reverend friar, was not exactly slow to appreciate the lady’s cleverness, and putting on a somewhat

sheepish expression, he promised not to bother her any more. But after leaving the friar, he made his way toward the house of the lady, who was keeping continuous vigil at a tiny little window so that she would see him if he happened to pass by And

from that day forward, proceeding with the

maximum prudence and conveying the impression that he was engaged in some other business

entirely, he became a regular visitor to the neighborhood.

—GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO, THE DECAMERON, TRANSLATED BY G.H.MCWILLIAM

As they strolled back to the house, Madame remarked, “What a delicious night we’ve just spent.” Was she referring to what had happened in the

pavilion? “There is an even more charming room in the château,” she went on, “but I can’t show you anything,” implying he had been too forward. She

had mentioned this room (“Monsieur’s apartment”) several times before; he could not imagine what could be so interesting about it, but by now he was dying to see it and insisted she show it to him. “If you promise to be good,” she replied, her eyes widening. Through the darkness of the house she led him into the room, which, to his delight, was a kind of temple of pleasure:

there were mirrors on the walls, trompe l’oeil paintings evoking a forest scene, even a dark grotto, and a garlanded statue of Eros. Overwhelmed by the mood of the place, the young man quickly resumed what he had started in the pavilion, and would have lost all track of time if a servant had not rushed in and warned them that it was getting light outside—Monsieur would soon be up.

They quickly separated. Later that day, as the young man prepared to leave, his hostess said, “Goodbye, Monsieur; I owe you so many pleasures; but I have paid you with a beautiful dream. Now your love summons you to return. Don’t give the Countess cause to quarrel with me.” Reflecting on

his experience on the way back, he could not figure out what it meant. He had the vague sensation of having been used, but the pleasures he remembered outweighed his doubts.

Interpretation. Madame de T  is a character in the eighteenth-century

libertine short story “No Tomorrow,” by Vivant Denon. The young man is the story’s narrator. Although fictional, Madame’s techniques were clearly based on those of several well-known libertines of the time, masters of the game of seduction. And the most dangerous of their weapons was

insinuation—the means by which Madame cast her spell on the young man, making him seem the aggressor, giving her the night of pleasure she desired, and safeguarding her guiltless reputation, all in one stroke. After all, he was the one who initiated physical contact, or so it seemed. In truth, she was the one in control, planting precisely the ideas in his mind that she wanted. That first physical encounter in the carriage, for instance, that she had set up by inviting him closer: she later rebuked him for being forward, but what lingered in his mind was the excitement of the moment. Her talk of the countess made him confused and guilty; but then she hinted that his lover was unfaithful, planting a different seed in his mind: anger, and the

desire for revenge. Then she asked him to forget what she had said and

forgive her for saying it, a key insinuating tactic: “I am asking you to forget what I have said, but I know you cannot; the thought will remain in your

mind.” Provoked this way, it was inevitable he would grab her in the pavilion. She several times mentioned the room in the château—of course he insisted on going there. She enveloped the evening in an air of ambiguity. Even her words “If you promise to be good” could be read

several ways. The young man’s head and heart were inflamed with all of the feelings—discontent, confusion, desire—that she had indirectly instilled in him.

Particularly in the early phases of a seduction, learn to make everything you say and do a kind of insinuation. Insinuate doubt with a comment here and there about other people in the victim’s life, making the victim feel vulnerable. Slight physical contact insinuates desire, as does a fleeting but memorable look, or an unusually warm tone of voice, both for the briefest of moments. A passing comment suggests that something about the victim

interests you; but keep it subtle, your words revealing a possibility, creating a doubt. You are planting seeds that will take root in the weeks to come.

When you are not there, your targets will fantasize about the ideas you have stirred up, and brood upon the doubts. They are slowly being led into your web, unaware that you are in control. How can they resist or become

defensive if they cannot even see what is happening?

What distinguishes a suggestion from other kinds of psychical influence, such as a command or the giving of a piece of information or instruction, is that in the case of a suggestion an idea is aroused in another person’s brain which is not examined in regard to its origin but is accepted just as though it had arisen spontaneously in that brain.

—SIGMUND FREUD

Keys to Seduction

You cannot pass through life without in one way or another trying to

persuade people of something. Take the direct route, saying exactly what you want, and your honesty may make you feel good but you are probably not getting anywhere. People have their own sets of ideas, which are hardened into stone by habit; your words, entering their minds, compete with the thousands of preconceived notions that are already there, and get nowhere. Besides, people resent your attempt to persuade them, as if they were incapable of deciding by themselves—as if you knew better. Consider instead the power of insinuation and suggestion. It requires some patience and art, but the results are more than worth it.

The way insinuation works is simple: disguised in a banal remark or encounter, a hint is dropped. It is about some emotional issue—a possible pleasure not yet attained, a lack of excitement in a person’s life. The hint registers in the back of the target’s mind, a subtle stab at his or her

insecurities; its source is quickly forgotten. It is too subtle to be memorable at the time, and later, when it takes root and grows, it seems to have emerged naturally from the target’s own mind, as if it was there all along.

Insinuation lets you bypass people’s natural resistance, for they seem to be listening only to what has originated in themselves. It is a language on its own, communicating directly with the unconscious. No seducer, no persuader, can hope to succeed without mastering the language and art of insinuation.

A strange man once arrived at the court of Louis XV. No one knew anything about him, and his accent and age were unplaceable. He called himself Count Saint-Germain. He was obviously wealthy; all kinds of gems and diamonds glittered on his jacket, his sleeves, his shoes, his fingers. He could play the violin to perfection, paint magnificently. But the most intoxicating thing about him was his conversation.

In truth, the count was the greatest charlatan of the eighteenth century—a man who had mastered the art of insinuation. As he spoke, a word here and there would slip out—a vague allusion to the philosopher’s stone, which turned base metal into gold, or to the elixir of life. He did not say he possessed these things, but he made you associate him with their powers.

Had he simply claimed to have them, no one would have believed him and people would have turned away. The count might refer to a man who had died forty years earlier as if he had known him personally; had this been so,

the count would have had to be in his eighties, although he looked to be in his forties. He mentioned the elixir of life. . . . he seems so young….

The key to the count’s words was vagueness. He always dropped his hints into a lively conversation, grace notes in an ongoing melody. Only

later would people reflect on what he had said. After a while, people started to come to him, inquiring about the philosopher’s stone and the elixir of life, not realizing that it was he who had planted these ideas in their minds. Remember: to sow a seductive idea you must engage people’s imaginations, their fantasies, their deepest yearnings. What sets the wheels spinning is suggesting things that people already want to hear—the possibility of pleasure, wealth, health, adventure. In the end, these good things turn out to be precisely what you seem to offer them. They will come to you as if on their own, unaware that you insinuated the idea in their heads.

In 1807, Napoleon Bonaparte decided it was critical for him to win the Russian Czar Alexander I to his side. He wanted two things out of the czar: a peace treaty in which they agreed to carve up Europe and the Middle East; and a marriage alliance, in which he would divorce his wife Josephine and marry into the czar’s family. Instead of proposing these things directly, Napoleon decided to seduce the czar. Using polite social encounters and friendly conversations as his battlefields, he went to work. An apparent slip of the tongue revealed that Josephine could not bear children; Napoleon quickly changed the subject. A comment here and there seemed to suggest a linking of the destinies of France and Russia. Just before they were to part

one evening, he talked of his desire for children, sighed sadly, then excused himself for bed, leaving the czar to sleep on this. He escorted the czar to a play on the themes of glory, honor, and empire; now, in later conversations, he could disguise his insinuations under the cover of discussing the play.

Within a few weeks, the czar was speaking to his ministers of a marriage alliance and a treaty with France as if they were his own ideas.

Glances are the heavy artillery of the flirt: everything can be conveyed in a look, yet that look can always be denied, for it cannot be quoted word for word.

—STENDHAL, QUOTED IN RICHARD DAVENPORT-HINES, ED., VICE: ANANTHOLOGY

Slips of the tongue, apparently inadvertent “sleep on it” comments, alluring references, statements for which you quickly apologize—all of

these have immense insinuating power. They get under people’s skin like a poison, and take on a life of their own. The key to succeeding with your

insinuations is to make them when your targets are at their most relaxed or distracted, so that they are not aware of what is happening. Polite banter is often the perfect front for this; people are thinking about what they will say next, or are absorbed in their own thoughts. Your insinuations will barely register, which is how you want it.

In one of his early campaigns, John F. Kennedy addressed a group of veterans. Kennedy’s brave exploits during World War II—the PT-109 incident had made him a war hero—were known to all; but in the speech, he talked of the other men on the boat, never mentioning himself. He knew, however, that what he had done was on everyone’s mind, because in fact he had put it there. Not only did his silence on the subject make them think of it on their own, it made Kennedy seem humble and modest, qualities that go well with heroism. In seduction, as the French courtesan Ninon de l’Enclos advised, it is better not to talk about your love for a person. Let your target read it in your manner. Your silence on the subject will have more insinuating power than if you had addressed it directly.

Not only words insinuate; pay attention to gestures and looks. Madame Récamier’s favorite technique was to keep her words banal and the look in her eyes enticing. The flow of conversation would keep men from thinking too deeply about these occasional looks, but they would be haunted by them. Lord Byron had his famous “underlook”: while everyone was discussing some uninteresting subject, he would seem to hang his head, but then a young woman (the target) would see him glancing upward at her, his head still tilted. It was a look that seemed dangerous, challenging, but also ambiguous; many women were hooked by it. The face speaks its own language. We are used to trying to read people’s faces, which are often better indicators of their feelings than what they say, which is so easy to control. Since people are always reading your looks, use them to transmit

the insinuating signals you choose.

Finally, the reason insinuation works so well is not just that it bypasses people’s natural resistance. It is also the language of pleasure. There is too little mystery in the world; too many people say exactly what they feel or want. We yearn for something enigmatic, for something to feed our fantasies. Because of the lack of suggestion and ambiguity in daily life, the person who uses them suddenly seems to have something alluring and full of promise. It is a kind of titillating game—what is this person up to? What

does he or she mean? Hints, suggestions, and insinuations create a seductive atmosphere, signaling that their victim is no longer involved in the routines of daily life but has entered another realm.

Symbol: The Seed. The soil is carefully prepared. The seeds are planted months in advance. Once they are in the ground, no one knows what hand threw them there. They are part of the earth. Disguise your manipulations by planting seeds that take root on their own.

Reversal

The danger in insinuation is that when you leave things ambiguous your target may misread them. There are moments, particularly later on in a seduction, when it is best to communicate your idea directly, particularly once you know the target will welcome it. Casanova often played things

that way. When he could sense that a woman desired him, and needed little preparation, he would use a direct, sincere, gushing comment to go straight to her head like a drug and make her fall under his spell. When the rake and writer Gabriele D’Annunzio met a woman he desired, he rarely delayed.

Flattery flowed from his mouth and pen. He would charm with his

“sincerity” (sincerity can be feigned, and is just one stratagem among others). This only works, however, when you sense that the target is easily yours. If not, the defenses and suspicions you raise by direct attack will

make your seduction impossible. When in doubt, indirection is the better route.